I have been lamenting over not being able to homeschool our kids or put them in an Orthodox school. A few nights ago, Little Builder was sitting in the bathtub, filling an old shampoo bottle with water and bubbles then dumping it out, singing to himself some song about robots. It was cute but made me sad.
Later, laying in bed next to my husband, I whispered:
If he were homeschooling or in an Orthodox school, he would be singing troparions instead of robot songs. His mind would be on "things above" instead of temporal earthly things. Right?
Over the weekend, I had plenty of time to spend with my kids, rubbing off on them.
On Saturday afternoon, after a whole day of my influence, as LB was building train tracks, he was humming to himself, not a troparion, not Hagios O Theos, not a psalm. No, he was singing...
"Dancing Queen" by ABBA, from my Mamma Mia soundtrack.
So my husband leans over to whisper, tounge-in-cheek, in my ear as we're doing dishes:
Too bad he's not homeschooling, so he could be singing troparia.
We laugh. I decide I better be thankful for what I have instead of wishing for something else. It is hard.
For Little Builder's Kindergarten, Thank You
* that his teacher loves teaching
* that his teacher has been teaching for 30 years and has great ideas
* that his school provides intense opportunities for me to be involved in his education, even if I can't homeschool. It actually forces me to sit down and do it, provides me with a schedule and accountability, lest I forget in the midst of my own students.
* for the laughter in LB's eyes as he hunches over, arm dramatically sweeping across the living room, telling me about "Going on a Bearhunt."
* for "being forced" to make 2 dozen cookies tonight for Grandparents Day tomorrow; LB and I love to cook together, but haven't done it so much recently.
As I force myself to be thankful, I feel my shoulders relaxing and the peace inching it's way in.